Bad
by hairsprayheart
Summary: Oh, he was such a very bad faun. t/l. Innocent reflections on a love that seemed one-sided. Don't like, don't read. But if you do, tell me what you think. MAY edit.


AN: Okay, so, normally I'm not a fan of Narnia romance, but I really, really had to write this. Maybe some of you think this pairing is a little creepy, but at least in the movie, I can totally see it. Don't like, don't read.

T/L. && so utterly cliché and fluff-filled that it just might make you sick.

**Oh, he was such a very bad faun.**

**He knew this was wrong, **_**so**_** wrong, so **_**wrong**_**. But – oh, sweet Aslan! – it felt so **_**right**_**.**

**He wasn't sure why he loved her. (Well, **_**of course**_** he was sure of why… her eyes, her smile, her laugh, her voice, her **_**everything**_**. Perhaps it was more of a question of **_**how**_**. How, that is, he had ever been fortunate enough – Aslan's mercy, most probably – to happen upon such a creature.) **

**He was normally a good faun: he followed all the rules; he did what he was told; he stayed inside most of the time; he attended all of the nighttime festivals (and, unlike the other fauns, he was good there, too). But when he had seen her… **_**well**_**. Everything changed. She was miraculous. She was unlike anything he had ever seen before. She was the stuff of myth, of legends, of hushed and giggly childhood conversations. She was the beginning of the prophecy, and the end of his life the way he had known it.**

**It had all started with the White Witch. She had, ironically enough, torn Narnia apart, but managed to put the two of them together. He had broken the rules, or at least the rules of the Witch (which he wouldn't have minded so much, save for the whole being-turned-into-stone thing – though, surely, for Narnia, for Aslan, for **_**her**_**, it was well worth it). And this… **_**this**_** was clearly against the rules, if there were even any for this sort of thing. (He was pretty sure there were.) And he was almost as sure that he didn't care, because all he really cared about now was her.**

**Though, really, he supposed it was more about him. He was selfish, he knew. After all, what did **_**she**_** have to gain? He was ungainly and unsure and undesirable, to be sure. But she… she was the most beautiful, confident, most confident, most wonderful Human he had ever met. No, that did not say enough. (He had only met four, after all.) Rather, the most wonderful being. He loved all of her siblings, too, but not in a way that was comparable to his love for her. She was better than anything else in Narnia (which, of course, made her all the more special), other than Aslan – though he loved Him, too, greatly; just in a different sort of way. He had never before and never would again love anyone the way he loved her. For no one else was like her. She was his everything.**

Tumnus raised his head from his desk. The long day of work, consisting mainly of signing papers and ordering others around to make preparations for the High King's diplomatic visit to Archenland, had wearied him. But still, his mind had managed to find a free moment to wander, and, of course, taken full advantage of it. One of his ears turned to the side, catching a sad sound in the distance.

He stood, tottering forward quietly in the general direction of the soft sobbing sounds. He was dismayed, but not exactly surprised, to find that they were coming from Lucy's room. He cleared his throat to alert her to his presence. When she turned to look at him, he grew alarmed at the sight of her, and thought his heart might be breaking. He bent his knees in a quick bow.

"My Queen? Shall I leave you?"

"No!" Lucy cried out, before adding more quietly, "Thank you." She swiped unceremoniously at her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand. Poor, beautiful girl. Always trying to keep up appearances for others. "I would much rather have you here for the moment."

Tumnus inclined his head respectfully before entering the room the rest of the way.

"W-what do you need, my queen?" he asked in a near-whisper.

"Oh, Mr. Tumnus!" Lucy wept, running to him and meeting him in a fierce embrace. "Dear, dear Mr. Tumnus."

He tensed, initially, before relaxing, feeling better than he had in quite a long time. She buried her face into his chest, and the faun hesitantly folded her into his arms to return the hug, reaching up with one hand to stroke her hair gingerly. He could feel the hot tears against his skin like they were a brand.

"Peter's leaving again, isn't he?" Lucy asked, raising her face to meet his eyes. She sniffled bravely. She was always so very brave.

The faun looked away, unable to bear hurting her, as he nodded mutely.

Her face crumpled as she cried out like someone had hurt her. But then the cry died, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream, a question. And this was what hurt Tumnus the most.

They stood there for a long moment. The tears subsided and were replaced by soft, snorting breaths and hiccups. Tumnus choked out a laugh, not because anything was funny, just because he was so terribly uncomfortable. Lucy, to his relief, began to laugh, too. It was a melodious laugh, one that had charmed kingdoms, won battles, and broken hearts. It was the most wonderful sound Tumnus had ever heard.

"Mr. Tumnus," she mumbled, her voice muffled as her flawless face pressed against him.

"Yes, dearest Lucy?"

"Don't leave," she said, almost pleadingly.

The faun shook his head violently, his dark curls bouncing against his horns. No. Never. How could he?

"Don't ever leave me," she whispered.

And, just like that, her little body was shaking again, wracked with sobs. He held her tight and lay his cheek on the top of her head. He was a faun, and fauns did not, _were not supposed to_, cry. But he did not know what else to term the fat drop of salty wetness that was hovering in the corner of his eye and threatening to fall, threatening to take everything else down with it.

As he listened to the pounding in his temples, they blurred together into a purr. _Love covers all wrongs._ And then there was a roar, and everything went silent again.

"My queen," he said, wriggling just enough to let her know that he wanted to be freed. "I should be going now."

"You have preparations," Lucy acknowledged in dismay.

"Well," Tumnus hesitated, "I suppose I could stay a _bit_ longer…"

So he stood quietly while Lucy cried for a bit longer (about what, he didn't know anymore) and she reluctantly began to release him. But as he turned to leave, her arm caught his, and she met his eyes.

"When I said not to leave me, you said you wouldn't."

"I know," he choked. "I'm not, really. I'll be just down the hall."

Lucy sighed. "This is so hard."

"Well, I suppose that's what you signed up for," Tumnus said softly, only half-smiling, only half-teasing. It was hard for him, too. Seeing her so sad and alone all the time. Knowing that if she wasn't a queen, it would just be one more barrier between them, broken down.

**So, seeing as all of this was really just to his benefit, he derived a sick pleasure from comforting her as she cried, because while she confided in him, he got to hold her close. While she shook with sobs, she clung to him, dependent on him. And he felt like a hero, even though he wasn't one, not really; in fact, he was very far from it. She had saved him. For he was a bad faun. Such a very bad faun.**


End file.
